


I've Got Your Back, Old Man

by TheFairyElephant



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gladio grows up fast, Gladio's Mother, I honestly don't know how to tag this as anything else, Mentions of Starscourge, Mother-Son Relationship, Sunstroke Gladio, Tattoos, Unknown Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFairyElephant/pseuds/TheFairyElephant
Summary: When Gladiolus Amicitia was six years old, he made an oath to his father first. And he tries so very hard to uphold his promise.Or, the origin story to Gladio's back tattoo that is entirely too self indulgent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a while since I've written fanfiction for anything but I had to get this story out of my head. I apologise in advance for British expressions and spellings; you'll see mom spelled like mum a lot, please bare with me. And this is unbeta'd so let me know if you see any spelling errors or tense mistakes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Gladiolus Amicitia saw his father’s tattoo was when he was seven years old and thought his father was going to die.

The summer heat had scorched the city of Insomnia till even the nearest ice-cream stalls were selling out or closing down from melted produce. The grass in the parks were turning yellow, and people were sore on a day to day basis from constant sunburn to dizzying heat strokes. 

Gladio was play-fighting outside in the back garden with the wooden sword he had received on his birthday. He was wacking bags of sand in the shape of a large body, strung up to a wooden post as his first ever training exercise. His young body was building up a bit of a sweat so he stopped and took a long drink of water while glancing over behind him, feeling satisfied and wanting to see if his mum had been watching and if she was just as proud.

His mum was reclining with an old romance novel in the shade of the trees that lined their fences. Accompanying her was her ever constant companion; a machine that wheezed and puffed air down tubes to a mask that kept his mum breathing normally, kept his mum alive.

The ventilator became a household item the year before, after Iris’ birth, and between the constant sound of pressurised air and Iris screaming her lungs out for attention, he came to hate both of them and longed for the days his dad had time off to go camping, just the two of them.

Iris at that moment was asleep in the house, another little device sitting by his mum to keep an ear out for the first sign of distress. Gladio didn’t hate the device as much as his sister’s screaming. He used it sometimes as a one way walkie-talkie with both his parents when it wasn’t used for its main function. He held it up by his ear and pressed the button, just like how he had seen his dad press the small button attached to his own ear communicator. And the garbled sound of voices delighted him, trying to be serious at the same time but always ending up laughing in the end, especially when raspberries were blown through the mic. 

He noticed that his mum had a similar device in her room, being more prominent when his dad had to work long nights at the citadel. His dad had shown him it before he left one night, and told him to use it if him or his mum or sister were in trouble and he’d come to them as quickly as possible.

Gladio didn’t think his mum would wail and scream in the middle of the night so he thought the walkie-talkie was a bit useless. But it didn’t dawn on him, till years later, that his dad wasn’t listening for sounds of desperation and loneliness, or pain for that matter, he was listening for silence, and he was listening for the sound of the machine screaming, not his mother.

Gladio had only used the device once to call his dad so far, and he hoped he’d never have to use it again.

He had woke up in the middle of the night from a rather brutal nightmare; his first one at six years old and dreaming about his father being taken away by faceless enemies, combined with the screams of his mother and sister, yelling at the faceless ones but yelling at him too because somehow it was his fault.

He woke up sobbing, clutching a threadbare teddy bear that wore a miniature crownsguard suit, calling out for his dad to come home. He wished he had a little walkie-talkie of his own in his room, but he knew where he could find one. Still crying softly and whimpering as he maneuvered around his toys and carefully to his door in the dark. He walked quietly and quickly to his mum’s room, aware of all the possible demons and monsters that could be lurking in the dark, and his panic rose as he snatched the machine of the bedside table and ran straight back through to his own room.

He was exhausted and tired and the tears wouldn’t stop and he was desperate to see his dad and to hear his voice, and that distress must have triggered the older Amicitia to think the worst. He was home in under twenty minutes, the loud rumbling of a motorbike stilling outside as the man himself ran through the door and up the stairs, turning lights on as he went. 

He checked on his wife first and found her sound asleep, except for a restless turn from her subconscious recognising a change in the room. She could always sleep through loud noises, he teased her and said it was in preparation of having kids. Or that she could sleep through the apocalypse if she wanted to…

Clarus then checked on baby Iris, still sleeping peacefully - a small miracle - in her cot at the end of the bed. And then he could hear it, the sound of his son crying quietly and whimpering, and Clarus ran through to Gladio’s room and the sight broke his heart.

“My dear boy, what’s happened?” He paced forward and picked up Gladio in his arms and sat them both down against the headboard, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Gladio had been sitting clutching the monitor to his chest like a life-line, curled up small with his eyes unfocused and glazed, no doubt red and puffy too from crying. When Clarus son came kicking and screaming into this world, he had always been larger than life; talking the loudest when words came to him, his smile always shining the brightest, and his anger the most prominent, and there was nothing in the house that said ‘Gladio wasn’t here’. Always standing proud and tall and confident in everything he did, even his mistakes.

Clarus didn’t realise how small Gladio could be until that moment.

“They took you away and it was all m-my fault! They t-took you a-away and it was all my fault.” Gladio’s babbling broke Clarus’ heart, and he tried his best to soothe the pain of the nightmare away. Reassuring him that he was never going to leave him, that nothing could take him away from his son, and that if they tried, they’d get a long sharp piece of metal up their bum. Gladio let out a watery laugh before he finally quieted down and breathed against the expanse of his dad’s chest. Clarus head leaning back against the wall in relief, after he sent a small conformation that his family was safe through his ear piece. They fell asleep like that and almost scared Clarus’ wife half to death when she found them like that in the morning. 

Pancakes were made all around, and both the boys were allowed to have a pot noodle at lunch, despite the lack of nutritious ingredients. But afterwards, before Clarus had to leave again, the talk he had to have with his son was the most uncomfortable and difficult one to date.

Asking him why he hadn’t went to his mum first, why he didn’t wake her up in his distress. Gladio couldn’t quite give a vocal answer to that; he didn’t have the capacity to express how frail his mum looked with the machine following her everywhere, or how even more delicate she looked while she was sleeping. He didn’t want to wake her because he was afraid that if he shook her too hard she’d shatter. So Gladio shrugged his shoulders with eyes downcast to the floor, avoiding any attempt to answer.

Clarus was worried about that but he moved on quickly and told his son that he was glad that he had used the monitor to reach him for help and he shouldn’t feel guilty for it. But that the monitor was to be used in emergencies.

“What kind of emergencies?” The confusion of Gladio’s face was almost enough for Clarus to stop this conversation, his son wasn’t old enough to hear that his mother’s days were numbered. Wasn’t old enough to hear how any breath she took could easily be her last if her body was distressed. Clarus didn’t want to think about the possibility of Gladio finding his mother still and in a state deeper than sleep.

He had to find a way to tell him something and he feared his words wouldn’t be sensitive enough to explain the situation delicately. So he took the cowardly way out and proceeded to tell his son to be precautious all the same. He’d deal with the oncoming grief his broken family will feel when the day comes.

“Well, if you fell down the stairs and got hurt pretty badly, your mum would call for the doctors, but she’d also use the walkie-talkie to call me. It’s the same if your sister was hurt or felt really unwell. I’m hoping that you can be my brave little man if it was your mum that was hurt, to call me on the monitor. Can you do that for me?” 

Gladio’s bottom lip wobbled at the mere thought, but his eyebrows furrowed together in his serious face, and gave his dad a very serious nod. He couldn’t stop the shame that would come later at the fact he had called his dad because of a frivolous nightmare. But he promised his dad that he would call him in emergencies only.

Clarus kissed his son on the forehead, “Do you remember what I told you about my job? How it’s my duty to protect the King as his shield and to make sure that he is safe and sound?” 

Gladio nodded once again, “You have to make sure that no bad guys hurt him or his family because that would be the worst thing that could happen to Insomnia.” He was quoting his dad a little, remembering how proud he was of his dad when the older Amicitia had first told him about his job. Of all the risks and responsibilities he had to take, of how important his dad was to be second hand to the King. That every single thing his dad said must be equally as important too, so he tried to remember as much as he could.

Clarus smiled gently and soothingly pushed Gladio’s hair behind his ear, “That’s right. And you know what else would be the second worst thing that could happen to Insomnia?” Gladio shook his head, puzzled, muttering a soft ‘what?’

“The second worst thing that could happen to Insomnia, would be me if anything happened to you or your mum or your sister. Shall I tell you a secret?” Gladio always thought his dad to be a little intimidating, now was no exception, but his face was softer looking. Not like the frailty his mum embodied, but more like a kind of reluctance, an awkwardness, and a small bit of fear. Gladio was taken aback before he was well and truly shocked at what his father said next.

“The one thing I worry about the most, is that if anything bad were to happen, I might not be here fast enough to protect my own family. And that scares and angers me more than fighting bad guys that want to hurt the king.”

Clarus took ahold of his son’s hands and squeezed them gently, “Which is why I need you to be the shield for your mum and sister and anyone else in this house when I’m not around. I need you to protect our family until I come back home. And I don’t mean fighting bad guys, as much as you’d get excited at that.”

“Protect your sister from bumping her head if she stands up and falls back down, catch her if you’re quick enough. Protect your mum if she goes for a bath with candles, and blow them out for her if she forgets. Protect them both if they fall downstairs by calling the doctors, and then call me.”

Gladio was overwhelmed to say the least. He was scared of the responsibility now given to him, but he was also thrilled and so very proud, and he wanted to make his dad even more proud of him. He wanted to prove that he could be the best shield, second to his dad, and that his dad could count on him. That he would do everything in his power to keep everyone safe and sound. Even if he was terrified at the thought of it all, self doubting his capabilities.

“Does that make you King if I’m your shield?” Gladio asked shakily. But he couldn’t help but smile and laugh when his dad started laughing first. 

\---

“Very impressive, Gladio! Perhaps we’ll talk to your dad about getting a real sword for your birthday next year if you keep it up”, Gladio’s mum praised enthusiastically, placing her book aside as she beckoned him to her. Her voice was heavy, and muffled by the ventilator mask, but it didn’t dampen her admiration in Gladio’s eyes.

He laid his sword down gently on the ground and ran forward to embrace her gently, her hands wrapping around his back before they lingered on his arms as Gladio raised them up and flexed them as much as his young body would let him. It didn’t stop his mum from ooh-ing and aah-ing at the barely formed muscle under his skin. He loved that about his mum sometimes; that she would praise him for such little trivial things and for the smallest of steps taken, whereas his dad always needed something a little more. Both forms of appraisal were important to him regardless, they were the fire to his drive. 

“Can I get a real sword for the new year instead?” Gladio asked, chancing his luck as he gave her his most charming smile, kissing her forehead too. 

“How can I say no to that face? I’m sure your father might disagree however, but I suppose we could perhaps compromise with a very handsome shield to match that magnificent sword of yours. How does that sound?” She tucked his hair behind his ears, it continued to surprise her how long it was growing and so quickly.

“We could do both? But I’ll only be allowed to play with the real sword when Dad’s home. That’s a good compromise, right?”

“A very good compromise, indeed! But I’ll say no more for spoiling the end of year festivities. Keep practising, my little shield, and perhaps you’ll be surprised.” She leaned forward to press her head gently to his, a new form of affection that they started last year. Gladio would still place a small kiss over the mask where her lips lay beneath, even if it made him a little sad and his mum smile a little more.

“Just you wait! I’ll be strong enough to lift you and Iris up by the new year!” He ran back over to patch of grass where his sword lay as he snatched it up and thrust the wooden weapon into the regime his dad had walked him through, with refreshed vigour in every swing. He could hear his mum clapping and whooping as loud as she could.

Except the cheers seemed more muffled than before and there was a rising ringing in his ear as his head felt lighter and dizzier. He paused for a moment to see if the spinning would stop but it only seemed to spin faster. And before he knew it, gravity had took ahold of his body and he felt the floor quickly meet his head. He tried so very hard to stay awake, and he could tell he was close to fainting as his vision was turning to white.

And then he heard the machine screaming for the first time, and the panic in his mum’s voice as she ran and dropped to his level in breathless panic. He could just make out his mum’s face, bare and beautiful, even with the red lines marking her skin where the mask should have been. He could hear her panting as she lifted his body to hers, could hear her gasp and shout for Jared, but Gladio knew that her lungs couldn’t give her the volume she needed. And it was then that both Amicitia’s started to panic.

Gladio felt his mum’s body lean further towards the ground, taking him with her, and he could feel her chest moving violently to suck in oxygen, like a fish out of water. His eyes felt so heavy, but the voice in his head was screaming at him to wake up, get up, and get moving. He didn’t notice that the voice sounded a lot like his dad’s.

Pushing past the dizziness, he crawled to his knees, feeling weak and sick, feeling the sun sear his back with its heated rays. It made him feel worse and he needed shade, but he needed that machine more for his mum. So staggering back to his feet, he sluggishly walked over to the ventilator and started to pull. 

It was slow going, and every second felt like minutes as he dragged the heavy machine closer and closer, except the power wire stalled about halfway there and Gladio cried out in disbelief. He staggers back to his mum and tried to help her to her knees to at least crawl the rest of the way, pulling her hand, but her eyes were closing and fluttering and her body was becoming heavier. He wished he had those muscles he had promised her for new year, wished that he could carry her, but he wasn’t strong enough, and he felt like a failure.

Panicking and crying, the only thing left his young mind could think of was to call the doctor and call his dad on the monitor. He stumbled to the house as quick as he could, calling out Jared’s name in a painful rasp, as he moved towards the stairs to his parents bedroom where the monitor always sat. He tried the first few steps before he realised that he didn’t have the strength to do the rest. He collapsed against the cool of the laminated steps, and yelled for Jared again. 

He couldn’t recall if he had seen the man’s face before he passed out or if it was wishful thinking. 

\---

Gladio’s eyes had opened briefly as he felt cool water run down over his hair, a couple of dribbles slipping down his forehead. His body felt afloat and he wasn’t even sure if he was standing or lying down or even leaning against something. But he felt the water, he felt it pool around his hips and feet, falling or lying against the back of his legs, he couldn’t tell. 

He felt warm hands touch his bare shoulders as they tried to push him forward, maybe in an upright position, but all he could focus on was the sharp sting of those hands as the pressure increased against his skin. He must have yelped because he heard a distant voice saying something about sunburns and sunstrokes and lastly an apology, ‘I’m so sorry son, but I need to cool down your back too.’

He recognised it a second too late as his Dad pulled him forward again, wrapping a wet towel around his shoulders, this time it was colder. And when his vision started to focus, the soothing chill of the towel stimulating his senses to work again. He was met with the sight of his Dad’s naked torso and the worried wrinkles on his forehead as the older Amicitia continued to pour water over his head.

And all he could take in before his eyes shut once again, was the sight of black staining his dad’s skin. 

\---

When Gladio came back around for the second time, his own dark room greeted him and the rich navy curtains blocked out the setting orb in the sky. His relief confused him for a moment. Lying in his bed during the day had confused him for a moment further. And then when he saw his dad sleeping stiffly in a chair next to him, the past day all came rushing back. 

He remembered training in the garden with his mum sitting outside with him to enjoy his company. He remembered falling, he remembered his mum falling, the sound of the machine going crazy, the raw sound of his voice as he yelled for help. The blackness that swallowed his dad’s torso.

Gladio rushed to sit up, staring at his dad as he tried to make sense of that last memory. It looked like ink or paint had been spilled over his dad’s body. But it didn’t quite linger on the skin like it should have, but more like it was underneath, that it had seeped into the pores and wasn’t coming out again. It looked unnatural, it made him feel sick, he wondered if his dad was sick. Made him think of the time he had overheard his dad talking about starscourge, and the black symptoms that came with the disease.

And that made him feel worse. 

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it; he wanted to see it, to touch it and to keep his curious fingers as far away from it as possible. How could his dad just sit there like it wasn’t even a thing to be concerned about. Had he been hiding it? Was it serious like his mum’s? 

He felt ready to cry.

He was crying when his dad woke up because he had forgot to worry about his mum, like she was an afterthought.

Gladio had grown used to the idea of his mum being ill that it seemed almost natural to pair the two together without a second thought. That illness couldn’t be without his mother and his mother couldn’t be without the illness. And now, he regretted his acceptance, but this was another thing he couldn’t express or vocalise because the epitomised feeling of sadness overwhelmed the details. It would be a long term guilt he’d eventually come to recognise and carry well into his teenage years and beyond.

But at that moment, all he wanted was to hold his mum and dad and to be held in return, and for them to be safe.

Clarus didn’t say anything as he moved to sit on the bed and pull his son into his arms, or at least he tried to. But Gladio was pushing him away, still keeping a small hand on his chest as he stared in the same direction. His son had never ever pushed him away before, and he felt like a piece of himself had broken away and traversed the canyon between them. 

But Clarus would suffer all the heartbreaks his son would give him just to see him happy. He owed his son that at the very least; with a father that was never home enough that it gave Gladio nightmares, and a mother that had to be mothered by everyone else including her son. And it all led to this. This gap between them, and he would do anything to fix it, to make this right. He owed that to himself at the very least.

“My son, it’s alright, I’m here for you-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

The chill that settled over the room was enough to make Clarus still, confused and about to crumble.

“I would never lie to you. What on Eos would make you think that? Gladio, I-”

“You’re sick! Just like mum! And you’re going to leave me too, so it’s not alright. Nothing is!” Gladio had snarled this at Clarus, so animalistic that it almost made Clarus flinch. The hand on his chest curled tightly in a ball, pulling the shirt in his grasp. 

Clarus severely undermined his son’s intelligence and only realised then that Gladio must have known the fate of his mother and had kept it to himself for however long he had known. The idea that Gladio had taken his own brave face and wore it with more ease than he ever could. That his seven, almost eight, year old son had kept this to himself, made his old eyes glassy. ‘Six, what a mess’, was the only thing he could think about.

Until he remembered that Gladio had proclaimed that he was sick as well.

“I’m not sick, Gladio. And I’m not going anywhere, I promised you this already-”

“But the black on your chest! It’s the starscourge, isn’t it? I know it is!” Gladio’s voice still held his temperament, but it was weakened, as was the hand on Clarus chest. Whether it was in doubt or from emotional exhaustion, he couldn’t guess which. Gladio’s face was red and puffy from crying and shouting, wet trails running down his cheeks and upper lip, and the image burned into Clarus mind, alongside the look of misinformed betrayal.

Clarus didn’t say anything because words wouldn’t do this justice. So without further thought, he gripped the back of his shirt from the neck and pulled it up and over his head. It lay limply on the bed in front of them, still in Gladio’s hands and their connection broken. But finally, the blackness on his chest revealed itself, not as starscourge, but as a symbol of the shield he had devoted his entire life to be.

Gladio stared and stared hard. His brows furrowing as the blackness wasn’t as inky or as ill looking as he had first perceived. And his hands reached out gently and unsure to trace a very specific outlining of a feather. Multiple feathers in fact. And as he absorbed the entire image set in his dad’s skin, he finally realised that it was the Amicitia’s crest eagle. It covered his chest, his stomach, and curled over his arms, and it was magnificent in its size and detail. Gladio felt a rush of shame and embarrassment flood his body but his already flushed cheeks hid the feelings well.

“W-What is it?” Gladio couldn’t help but finally ask. The childish curiosity finally making itself known.

“It’s a tattoo. It’s what every Amicitia in our family get as a symbol of our devotion and protection to the king. Your grandfather got his when he rose to swear the oath to the king, and your great grandfather before him, just as I did twenty years ago.” Clarus voice was weary and quiet as he explained their history to his confused son. Who continued to stare and touch, still entranced.

And when he was finally done staring, his head fell and his body began to shake once again. This crying felt never ending, but at least this time, when Clarus leaned forward to hug his son carefully and as close to him as possible, he didn’t push away.

Gladio started up a chant of apologies, every single one being hushed by his dad and reassured that it was unneeded, and that Clarus apologised in return to which Gladio murmured that it was alright back. The short huff of a laugh escaped Clarus lips and held his son closer. He was so afraid of how quickly Gladio was growing up that he was sure to lose him in a blink of an eye, so he held on as tight as he could. Everything would work out okay, eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

“Is mum okay?” 

“She’s fine, son. Just resting…”


	3. Chapter 3

When Gladiolus Amicitia took the same protective oath to be the shield of Prince Noctis, the same oath his dad took to protect King Regis, Clarus was there for every painful session as their family’s eagle spread its wings across his son’s back. 

Gladio placed the tattoo there because it was a permanent reminder of the promise he had made his dad all those years ago, to shield his family when he wasn’t around. It didn’t make it any less painful to have the needle puncture his skin, or to be reminded that losing his mother was still not his fault. He wasn’t going to let that stop him from protecting the rest of his family by any means how. 

To protect his dad, his baby sister, Ignis, Prompto, and Noctis.

So when he stepped out the tattoo parlour after his final session, his dad slapped his back, a proud and smug smirk on his face as Gladio winced, Gladio couldn’t help but smile back.

“Someone’s got to watch your back, old man.”

“Just watch your own first, for the sake of this old man.”


End file.
